


Shakespeare

by GangstaCrow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, its shitty but whatever i guess, that one macbeth au i said i would do a few months ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GangstaCrow/pseuds/GangstaCrow
Summary: "Why?""Whynot?"Or: Iwaizumi is kind of evil and Kyoutani loves Yahaba more than anything.





	Shakespeare

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i mentioned doing this in one of the end notes for loud but i never had the balls to do it until now  
> 2\. i did it. surprise.  
> 3\. i changed some of the details because i thought this version would work better for the story so dont yell at me plz  
> 4\. dont read this its shitty and i didnt edit it

Rain pours mercilessly from the sky, striking the ground like bullets and making the battlefield’s blood flow down the hill like a river of destruction. Hajime scans the corpses littering the ground, lip curling in disgust at their lifeless eyes. Armor is dented. Swords are broken. Snapped arrows are scattered on the ground, a few lodged into the backs of his enemies. These men who once worshipped him have betrayed him at a time when they should’ve supported him in greater magnitude, devoted even more of their hearts to him. Kindaichi. Kunimi. Hanamaki. They all should have fought _for_ him, fought to keep his crown and his family safe. But they chose not to, so they paid the price. When Hajime catches sight of Kindaichi’s flooded eyes, he snarls. _He brought this on himself, just as all the others had._ And he was right of course, because they obviously had chosen the wrong path. The path to greatness was the one on which he walked, not the one opposing him. No, that was the path of weakness. Every single one of his former colleagues who fought him after coming down that path were weak. He gives a strong kick to Kunimi’s head, though the satisfyingly loud crack only makes him that much angrier.

What gave them the right to question him? _He_ was the king, not them! He knew what was right for his country, not some lowly gentry who were more concerned about the saddles on their horses than their country's woes! And even if they did know about the issues plaguing them, how would they know what was best anyway?

They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t know a damn thing. They wouldn’t know what to do, how to react, what everything meant, how to fight, how to protect themselves and their loved ones. _He_ did. Hajime, not them. They would never know. They would never know how hard he had to work to get here, how hard they’d have to work to not only keep the crown safe, but to protect it from anyone who wanted to pry it from their grasp.

Hajime did. He’d earned this. He deserved this. Nobody has any right whatsoever to take this from him after everything he put himself through, every ~~vile~~ act he forced himself to take part in just to earn his place.

The pattering of footsteps in the mud pulls him from his thoughts. They’re heavy and slow, radiating rage and uncontrolled sorrow. Steel armor dripping in what little blood has yet to be washed off, sword covered in bits of flesh and stringy chunks of meat. When he meets those golden eyes, he feels as though he’s staring into the eyes of a starved wolf. They’re void of any semblance of positivity, overcome with the only things he has left to feel.

Fury. Bloodlust. Hunger for revenge and satisfaction and retribution-

_Except for him. He might deserve to take it._

But Hajime doesn’t have to worry about Kentarou.

**Beware Kyoutani.**

Kyoutani Kentarou has no family. His mother a downtrodden whore, his father a drunk, no family to speak of save for the one person who’d forsaken his very name upon him leaving Aoba Johsai to go to Karasuno. With two of the three people who carried the same name already taken care of by the world’s natural order, all he’d had to do was send out a couple of people with a grudge to settle to get rid of the last one. He hadn’t even needed to worry about him, but he’d always thought Kentarou’s husband had a smart mouth when he shouldn’t have. It’d been funny to imagine that snarky attitude dissipate into fear and regret and hatred.

**No man born of woman shall harm you.**

This ensured his victory. No matter how hard he tried, Kentarou would never beat him. He was never strong enough to surpass him in ranking, never able to beat him when they trained, never able to get the titles that were so graciously gifted to him. He'd bow his head and jokingly claim that nobody would win when up against his dear brother, and Hajime would laugh with what at the time he thought was amusement, but in hindsight should’ve been understanding. Because it was true. Nobody would ever win. Kentarou would never win. Never.

He should’ve never crossed Hajime. Should’ve never stopped looking up to him. Shouldn’t have tried to pounce on him with a subtle accusation after Ushijima’s death. Should’ve showed up to his coronation. Shouldn’t have left to get help from Kageyama.

Though Kentarou still thinks he can win. He can tell from how he keeps staring him down, not faltering or drifting away or lowering for even a second. It irritates him.

They draw their swords at the same time, the metal singing in time with the storm around them in a crude symphony.

Kentarou, for the first time since Hajime was pronounced king, speaks to him. No admiration. No brotherly affection. It’s deep seated contempt laced with the barest hint of desperation. He wants an explanation.

“Why?”

And Hajime realizes that Kentarou's probably learned that this hadn’t had to happen. That Hajime’s victory would’ve been guaranteed regardless.

But Hajime wanted to give Kentarou a reason to show his face again, something that'd force the younger man to challenge him so he could die knowing Hajime earned the world and he was nothing but a speck in comparison. That Shigeru was nothing but a means to an end. Just something to move things along, something to pass the time with.

“Why _not_?”

And Kentarou doesn’t look surprised at the response, though that in and of itself angers him further, the scowl depending and his breath coming out as a growl. Then they’re charging at each other, metal clinking with each blow as swords glide off each other. Lighting strikes through the clouds, and if he’d had any sense, Hajime would’ve moved the fight inside so he wasn't hit. But Kentarou isn't budging, so he'll wait. He won’t lose, whether it be in terms of will or strength. He aims for the thin point in Kentarou’s chestplate, the opening begging Hajime to sink his sword into it to finally end this. His opponent sidesteps, and Hajime follows him, a reckless move that’s meaningless to him because what can Kentarou do? Nothing.

But when this step causes him to stumble in the barest of seconds on- is that Matsukawa? He doesn’t remember- something on the ground Kentarou catches it immediately.

And it shouldn’t matter.

But it does.

Because now he’s doubled over, hand hovering over the point in his chest where Kentarou has just run him through. A sharp metallic scent invades his nostrils, and oh, that’s his own blood isn’t? But he’s not going to die, because no man born of woman can harm hi-

Hajime chokes on something. He assumes it’s bile, though he’s ashamed that’d he throw up in front of someone lesser than him-

But it’s red. And he can’t breathe.

He inhales, but it _hurts,_ so he coughs a good five times before he falls on his side, into the puddle of red widening with each passing second, face to face with Kentarou’s metal boot.

“No… no man… ” Coughing, blood stuck in his throat because this wasn’t supposed to _happen._ “Born of woman…” He tries to suck in more air, but it makes blood fill his mouth faster. “Can harm…”

And now Kentarou is crouched down in front of him. Condescending and unfulfilled and oddly void of emotion now that he's got Hajime right where he wants him.

“Didn’t you hear? My crackwhore of a mother ripped me out three months early. Surprise.”

The cold metal of Kentarou’s sword slides against his neck, and when it lifts up, the last thing he hears is the clapping of thunder before he can hear no more.

 

* * *

 

Hajime wakes with a start, his eyes snapping open as he looks around the room for something, _anything_ to tell him he’s still alive. Tooru’s fast asleep next to him, drooling on his pillow with a smile because he’s probably dreaming about something sappy. He puts a hand over his own heart, and it’s racing faster than it ever has. He eases out of bed to get a glass of water, and his eyes catch it on the bedside table.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

_I'm never reading that shit before bed again._

On his way to the kitchen, he grabs the book as well as his phone.

**_1:34 am_ **

**Iwaizumi:** i just had a dream where i was macbeth and you were macduff and you fucking killed me

**_1:37 am_ **

**Kyoutani:** ?? why did i kill you??

**_1:38am_ **

**Iwaizumi:** i kinda killed yahaba for like no reason

**_1:40 am_ **

**Kyoutani:**

**_1:41 am_ **

**Kyoutani:** sounds about right

 

Hajime tosses the book into the trash and vows to never come between Kyoutani and Yahaba for the rest of his life. Not that he ever would, but just to be safe, he forces himself to remember this in case the thought ever dares to enter his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> 5\. okay but my mind was blown when someone told me that during this time ppl were like "if you werent born from a vag technically you werent born" and im still confused af  
> 6\. please feed me comments they are my only form of sustenance
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gangstacrowtwit) and so we can scream about nerd shit together because i fuckin love you guys


End file.
